


Cigarettes and breadcrumbs - A preface to Alabanza

by thatCaroperson



Category: In the Heights - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF, In the Heights - Miranda/Hudes
Genre: Alabanza, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Death, Other, Paciencia y fe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29768085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatCaroperson/pseuds/thatCaroperson
Summary: Did you ever wonder how Abuela Claudia´s passing was actually like? In this very short snippet (a preface to "Alabanza" as I like to call it) we get to see her last moments through the eyes of the person who loved her the most.Who said Death can´t be lovely?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Cigarettes and breadcrumbs - A preface to Alabanza

Death was restless. It was a bit ironic really, that they made everyone rest in peace, and yet there they sat, unable to stay still. Fumbling with the cigarette between their fingers. Watching out the window to a cloudy night sky they would normally find amusing. You see, moonlight barely making it through the clouds made them feel ominous. Imminent. Absolute. Cliche. They would laugh at it (or with it, as they prefered to think), while they skipped through someone’s back garden on their way to collect their soul (or greet it, as they prefered to think).  
Tonight, all Death felt was restlessness.  
They feared if they stopped moving, the sheer weight of it would crush them. They gave the cigarette one last drag before crushing it on their heel and turning around. On the sofa in front of them lied Claudia. All wrinkles and breadcrumbs and love. All heat and a frail heart. Death sighed.  
_Inhale, exhale. Just like she does it. Just like she will stop to do. No. Don’t go in there. Inhale, exhale. Just like she taught you. Paciencia y fe, remember? Inhale, exhale._  
Death crouched in front of her. She was older, much older than they remembered. Of course, they had been apart far too long and time had gone by leaving Death behind. They found their reflection on an old steel kettle that was still on the stove, too close to boiling. White curls of vapor rose from the place where the lid should have been, imitating the curls on Death’s own hair, almost as white, mind you.  
Mama Claudia and them would always laugh about it over tea during their time in the Heights. They would laugh about everything, really, except the heat. That accursed heat. “Mierda, que calor!” they would exclaim as Claudia opened the door and her neighbour’s child would come in and thrown themselves on the only spare chair and complain the plaza was a fucking desert. And Mama Claudia would scold at them for swearing before turning to get them some water, all while mumbling “paciencia y fe!” under her breath.  
That was, of course, before Death stopped breathing. Well, for the last time, since not breathing was a pretty common occurrence while they were alive. On those moments Mama Claudia would sit and breathe with them. Hold their hand. Respira, respira. Inhale, exhale. They appreciated it a lot, especially because no one knew what was wrong with them. Doctors and the Heights were not close friends, and of course not as close as Death was with Claudia. So when it was their time to go, they simply couldn’t. A part of them was just so attached to this loud, simple-pleasured woman that they just couldn’t really go.  
Soooooo they had the brilliant plan of offering the Death at the time a well deserved vacation and taking their place.  
So now here they were.  
In front of Mama Claudia again.  
Who was about to die.  
As I said, Death was restless. You see, this woman was already resting and already in peace, what more could they give her? More rest and more peace?  
Mama Claudia opened her eyes. It took her a while, but they finally settled on them. She was finally able to see them. Death wanted to smoke one more cigarette. Or a pack. Or curse, or fling themselves out the window, or all at once.  
But then Mama Claudia smiled and everything inside them went still.  
-I missed you, my child - she muttered -. Te estuve esperando con paciencia y fe.  
Death smiled and took her hand like they used to. They turned off the stove, and walked away.


End file.
